


Sleepovers, Cuddle Buddies, and Scary Stories, oh my!

by thecrayreport



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild Gore, One Shot Collection, Sleepovers, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25426246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrayreport/pseuds/thecrayreport
Summary: The gang decides to celebrate Beatrice's birthday with a sleepover, but who can resist to share a few ghost stories?
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Sister Lilith/Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 157





	1. Let the Games Begin

**Author's Note:**

> so i didn't have many sleepovers when i was a kid, but the few times i did host at my house, they always wound up scaring the daylights out of lil baby me. add a touch of gay, and we got ourselves a souffle of hi-jinks and mayhem.
> 
> also if you want to connect with me off AO3, my twitter + tumblr is @thecrayreport, and my discord is tonibaloney#5318. send me a dm, i don't bite!

“Does anybody else feel like this is a _little_ bit childish, or is that just me?”

The four people looked around. Granted, Ava’s room was a bit small, hardly big enough to fit any other furniture besides her bed and an adjourning dresser; but underneath the wall of blankets and throw covers, it might as well have been a palace. Strips of LED lights twinkled like stars as they wove through the hanging fabrics, and the floor was cushioned by decorative pillows and couch cushions that definitely didn’t come from Father Vincent’s office (they most certainly did). Soft, instrumental music played on a portable speaker, and as the fifth person slipped through the fort’s opening, arms heavy with bowls of various snacks, Lilith pointed out the strange nature of their meeting once again.

“Why couldn’t we do this somewhere else?” she asked. “Why did we have to tear up the living room?”

“Because it’s Beatrice’s birthday,” Mary replied from her place among a throne of cushions, “and since she never had a sleepover when she was a kid, we’re giving her one tonight.” She patted the woman’s hand when she knelt down beside them. “Happy birthday, by the way,” she added with a gentle smile.

Beatrice’s cheeks brightened as red as her sweater, gifted to her by a certain person. “You guys didn’t have to do this, really.”

“Nonsense!” Camila exclaimed. “The greatest gift anyone can be given is life. Take the chance to look back on who you once were, and who you want to be.”

“Plus, pillow forts are fucking _awesome_ ,” Ava added, chewing on some fudge brownies. “Much better than actual forts, I’ll say. Way too easy to break into. And, uh… really bloody.”

“Don’t you _dare_ get blood on these sheets,” Mary snapped. “These are Charlotte Thomas, the most expensive bed sheets out there. Just one set costs over two thousand dollars, you know.”

“ _These sheets were two thousand dollars?_ ”

“ _Over_. Context matters here.”

“Oh, forget this.” Ava tried to get to her feet, but was pulled back down by Beatrice, who sat another pillow down for her to rest on.

“It’s a nice place,” she said. “Extravagant, yes, but I suppose it is a special day. To splurge is not too bad.”

Mary beamed. “Thanks.”

Beatrice snapped her head around. “This is, however, the last time you’re getting the credit card.”

“Hey!”

“No offense, ladies, but we should probably hurry this up a bit,” Lilith reminded them. “Birthday celebration, or not, if Mother Superion catches us all out of bed, that’s our necks.”

“But Mary and Shannon had sleepovers all the time, and Mother Superion didn’t do anything then,” Camila reminded her.

They all unanimously turned to face the new yet sudden person of interest. Mary, however, didn’t return their gazes. Instead, she picked at the caramel that coated a bowl of popcorn, chewing her lip as well as her thoughts.

“I, uh… L-Let’s not talk about that,” she said, coughing into her fist. “Hey, pass the cordial, would you?”

Ava tossed over the sealed glass bottle of apple cordial. Sadly, alcoholic beverages weren’t allowed within the walls of the monastery, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have some variety other than water. They had been given several cases of apple cordial from a distillery deep within the countryside, as gratitude for exorcising several wraith demons from the owner’s family. It might not be able to get them wasted, but it sure left a sharp kick with every sip.

“So,” Lilith said, shifting to lay down onto her stomach, “who’s the host for the evening?”

Camila’s hand shot up like a rocket. “Ooh, ooh, me!”

“Got pen and paper?” Mary asked.

Beatrice nodded and shied away a few pillows to unearth a writing tablet and subsequent pen. After scribbling on a corner to ensure it worked, she motioned for Camila to begin.

Camila closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath to even herself. Then, from somewhere within her sleeve, she brandished a flashlight, flicking it on before holding it up to her face. Ava supposed it was her try to appear fearsome in order to set the mood of the evening, but her soft face made it look like she was on the verge of blinding herself instead. Just in case, Lilith reached over to lower the angle of Camila’s hand, so that the beam wasn’t directly in her eyes.

“Normally, on nights such as this, we hunker down within our beds, perhaps with a book or two, a wax candle by our side. But this isn’t any normal night. Tonight, with the witching hour close at hand, we arrive at an axis in space and time where our two worlds meet. Tonight, we reveal the monsters within our own homes. Tonight, we tell _ghost stories_.”

“Nice introduction,” Mary commented.

Camila grinned. “Thank you! Would anyone like to say anything else before we get to our first story?”

Ava raised her hand. “I’d like the court to recognize that Beatrice is a cutie patootie.”

“This isn’t a court case,” Lilith said.

“Objection, your honor! Relevance?”

“There is no relevance, because this isn’t a court proceeding!”

“It is now.” Camila struck the flat of her hand against the floor, in place of a gavel. “Sustained. Place on record.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “You guys said you would take this seriously.”

“It’s not our fault we wanna play a little,” Mary said with a shrug.

“You’re never here, either,” Ava added. “Too busy stuffing your face with doughnuts to come and cuddle with the rest of us?”

“ _One time_. One time, I eat a box from Krispy Kreme, and nobody lets that go!”

“She does have a point.”

It was Beatrice who spoke such traitorous language, and outside of Lilith who smiled in triumph, the others frowned at such a comment. Beatrice, on the other hand, was oblivious to their stares, continuing to scribble away on the notepad. But when she did notice their silence, she lifted her eyes and immediately blanched.

“Wh-What I mean is, even though I enjoy your enthusiasm, we really shouldn’t waste our time making quips at each other. Let’s have our fun, but be respectful. If one of us doesn’t feel like they’re being included, well, we need to fix that.”

“But, babe一”

Beatrice patted Ava’s cheek. “There’s plenty of time to goof off with your friends later. But tonight, let’s just stick with the stories, okay?”

Ava’s shoulders sagged as she relented. All the power of her halo couldn’t make her strong enough to fight against her girlfriend. She could say absolute gibberish and she’d still be persuaded onto her side. Of course, Beatrice was thoughtful enough never to do so. She cared about their feelings in spite of living a life where no one prior to meeting them would do the same. So while Lilith might have won this round, Ava didn’t mind the sour taste as much.

“Who’s first, then?” she asked.

Lilith held up a finger. “I’ve got one, but fair warning, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

_Of course the half-demon has a scary story_ , Ava thought as she slid down to lay her head in Beatrice’s lap.

“We begin in a study hall, where a student prepares to begin their final, unaware of the danger that lurks right behind them…”


	2. Man Proposes, God Disposes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith weaves a horrifying tale of hubris with deadly consequences, but in the process of doing so, might have locked herself up in a trap of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude this story's freaky as hell, england is off the shits.

The long hall was absolutely packed with both bodies and artwork alike. Although Stephen found it strange to complete their exams in such an environment with more paintings than there were windows, he wasn’t quite able to vent his frustration with so many other students vying to get into the room, just as him. Knapsacks were jostled, hands were stabbed by sharpened pencils, and feet were trodden with little sympathy. Stephen grunted as he was carelessly flung to the side before he could take a seat. Animals, completely mindless animals, the lot of them.

Clutching his papers against his chest, Stephen searched across the sea of bobbing heads and through the endless din for respite. It wasn’t long until he found it. The table and chair were nearly lost in the cacophony, but the moment his eyes fell upon it, he sought after it with the ferocity of a maddened bull. He ignored the cries of alarm as he pushed and shoved fellow students out of his way. Only until his sack was by his feet, himself planted squarely in the chair, did he feel safe enough to relax. However, such tranquility was short-lived when a foot was kicked against his shin.

Stephen reeled backwards, and glared up at his assailant. The other boy looked hardly older than him, his short yet shaggy dark hair obscuring one of his eyes from view. Yet he looked back at Stephen with a terrifying stare, like a child discovering the boogeyman for the very first time, that made him appear considerably younger.

“You shouldn’t sit there, you know,” he said.

Stephen waved him away. “If this is about some sort of placement, you can be rest assured that I don’t have time for it.”

But the boy didn’t move. Well, he did back away an inch, which Stephen considered odd. Was he even looking at him anymore, or something behind him? “It isn’t covered. Just… don’t look at it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and hurried away, quickly enveloped by the crowd. Stephen tried to follow him, but a sudden hush had fallen over the student body. It was so quiet, Stephen thought that nobody else was so much as breathing, until a familiar voice cracked it like ice.

“Everyone, take your seats, please, we’ll begin shortly.”

Professor Stone hid his harsh demeanor behind floral manners. To anyone who hadn’t known him for several months, they would’ve easily taken the wrinkles along his eyes and his hunched frame as a sign that he couldn’t possibly be a threat. But Stephen knew better. He saw with his own eyes many flee from his icy-blue gaze and even sharper tongue, himself being the few that remained. It wasn’t just his future at the university that was at stake here, it was also his social status, to be part of the rare few who ran Stone’s gauntlet and came out unscathed.

Stephen could hardly contain himself, his leg thumping against the floor. He caught Professor Stone’s eye as everyone sought after an empty seat, and for a split second, Stephen saw a flicker of his signature irritation darken his eyes. But then something snatched his attention away, something past Stephen’s face. The color drained from the old man’s face like melting wax, and just like the boy from before, he practically tripped over himself to turn away. This time, Stephen wasn’t struck with perplexity. Amusement tugged at a corner of his lips, and he ducked his head down to hide his growing smile.

The exam started soon after. Stephen tried to keep his focus on what lied on his desk, but his curiosity had gained corporeal form. What was it about this seat that frightened those around him? How could anything be so scary that it drove a stone-hearted, old man to nearly running for his life? One could only write so many paragraphs about the implausibility of life on Mars without reaching some level of boredom. While others had their heads down low to their hands, Stephen decided to take a little break, just to stretch his neck. His joints creaked like aged wood as he straightened in his chair, and as his lips parted into a heavy yawn, he dared to take a glance behind him.

It would be a terrible mistake.

“This _story's_ a terrible mistake,” Ava muttered.

Lilith’s face wrinkled into a snarl. “I heard that!”

Beatrice nudged Ava’s shoulder, but she stuck to her guns. “But it is! Ghost stories are supposed to be cool, exciting, _suspenseful_. I don’t even know what half of the words you used mean!”

Lilith smirked. “Isn’t that more telling on you than it is with me?”

Ava clambered to her feet as her back hummed with a golden glow, Lilith’s nails flexing into hooked claws in response. It was Mary who stopped them from tearing into one another, using her body as a shield to keep the two of them apart.

“Now, you two stop that,” she said. “This is supposed to be a friendly gathering, and you’re turning it into some sort of arm’s race. Ava, stop interjecting and listen. Lilith, keep the snide comments to yourself.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t one to back down from a fight so easily, not when she was so sure of her own abilities when it came to winning. Yes, Ava had the halo, but it was an omnipotent battery pack. Eventually, it would run out of power, and so would she. All she had to do was overexert her enough where she eventually imploded on herself. Keep poking that bear in order to force her into submission.

But Ava surprised her by sitting back down. Lilith thought that she would at least try to fight against Mary’s show of power, but Lilith didn’t think it was her respect for the other woman that caused her to relent, not completely. As she continued to watch her, she noticed little things that she hadn’t before. Ava’s hands shook initially, but then went slack. Her eyes went up toward Beatrice, who planted a soft peck onto her forehead. This also puzzled Lilith, until she realized why.

She was doing it for her. All of it, for her. The Ava that Lilith enjoyed teasing in combat training was changing into a person that she no longer recognized, and all for what? Because they were together, and seeing Ava act so hot-headed upset Beatrice? Please. There was no power on this plane of existence or the next that could drive Lilith into becoming someone that she wasn’t. She was beautiful regardless and would never change that for anyone.

Lilith resituated herself down onto the pile of cushions, then jerked her chin in Mary’s direction. “Can I continue?”

Mary closed her eyes as she nodded.

“Good. So, as I was saying…”

It was a painting, but not like the ones that engulfed the walls of the gallery. Safe within a screen of plexiglass and gold trim frames, they were all annoyingly mundane. A ship floating on choppy waters. A pair of Victorian-era schoolboys. They were what someone expected to see in such a historical place. But this painting in particular, besides its obscene imagery, differed because while Stephen knew that the glass that encased the others was for their own protection, he felt as if this one was for his own.

The scene was completely grotesque. Jagged ice floes encapsulated what remained of a shipwreck. Torn steel and a broken mast rose out of the snow while what remained of its sails lied in tatters. Stephen could squint and barely see what appeared to be a telescope somewhat buried within the snow, but it wasn’t the wreck that made his blood run cold. It was the exposed ribcage that sat in the far right-hand corner of the painting, as well as the giant bear that gorged on its flesh.

Stephen had never seen a polar bear look the way the ones in the painting did. From what he had remembered, he thought of them to be large, lumbering giants, their small yet round ears reminding him more of a living, breathing teddy bear than a dangerous creature. But in the artwork, they embodied every inch of the predator he had been told. They were savages, wrenching free muscle from bone with cracked teeth as if they were devouring a roasted hen. The sound of his classmates scribbling onto their sheets of paper had morphed into rough scratches as the bears cleaved through chest cavities before digging into the succulent delicacies underneath.

He could feel their heavy breathing on the back of his neck now. One tore its head from its prey to lock its coal-black eyes to fix them onto Stephen’s, his pale blonde fur stained crimson with fresh blood.

Stephen’s eyes began to water. He couldn’t move, his entire body frozen in space and time, yet some part of him did. It was a final act, a frantic plea to anyone who might listen. Picking up his pencil, he began to write, but not the dissertation that he was supposed to. The importance of the exam had completely left his mind. The only thing that remained, the only thing that mattered, was to make clear that none of this was his intention. All of it had a central blame.

Finally, it was done. His fingers convulsed and tightened around his pencil, forcing it still. The bear was approaching him now. From its maw came a guttural growl, a warning, an omen. The veins in Stephen’s neck popped as he tried to fight against it, but its words were too compelling. It was an ancient spirit, after all. It had devoured the hearts and souls of those far stronger than him for decades, and would continue to do so for eons more. There was only one thing that he could do, before he, too, became just another statistic.

Stephen’s last act, besides writing his note, might not have been an easy decision. His life was only just beginning. But before the bear could strike, he decided that his short sacrifice would be better than a life full of agony.

His final thought, before he drove his pencil clean through his eye, was how much he regretted looking back.

The tale’s end wasn’t that scary to the group, but they did jump when Camila let out an ear-splitting scream. Ava held her beating heart while Mary rolled over to assess the situation. Lilith’s eyes turned into dark slits on instinct.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Camila covered her mouth, her eyes akin to twin moons. “I don’t think I turned off the stove!”

Everyone, besides Camila of course, fell onto the pile of pillows in an exasperated heap. Beatrice fanned Ava’s face slickened with sweat. “I think I just had three consecutive heart attacks,” she breathed.

Mary handed Camila back her flashlight, which she had dropped in the confusion. “Maybe offer us a warning _before_ you start screaming next time.”

“Sorry,” Camila murmured, then straightened out her back as she focused her attention onto Lilith as she rose from off the ground. “No offense, Lilith, but I don’t think I really like your story. It’s kinda… toxic.”

Lilith, for the second time that night, was struck dumb. However, instead of fighting against it, she motioned for Camila to continue. Her interest was piqued as her brows.

“Well, it’s obviously based on mental illness and its effects, as well as suicide. Neither topics are easy to discuss, but both are stereotypical when it comes to stories based on paranormal occurrences. You might not realize it, but you’re feeding into the perception that those within such a vulnerable community are ‘Other’, or should be treated as such, while also romanticizing, if not downplaying, suicide and those who have sadly passed by it.” Camila shrugged. “It’s not okay.”

Lilith opened her mouth to speak, only to close it just the same. What could she possibly say against that? What could anyone? The tale of the haunted painting had been told to her countless times where she had become numb to it, but Camila was right. As someone who knew firsthand the dangerous road that depression could lead one down, tales that objectified that history didn’t help anyone like her in the slightest. In fact, it made them appear like novelties rather than living, breathing people. So while she couldn’t take the story back, that didn’t mean she couldn’t fix the situation.

Lilith blinked, her eyes returning back to their round selves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right, I should’ve stopped and thought about how it might harm others. What kind of story do you think would be better instead?”

Camila lit up like a Christmas tree, which did unnerve Lilith, especially when she dove in to lay beside her. But to hear her gushing about a more appropriate story, well, she wasn’t seething. It was nice, even if Mary watched her with a slight smile.

“My grandmother told me this one,” Camila answered. “It’s kind of like a warning for overprotective parents, but also how the devil’s around every corner…”


End file.
